Megs held up a hand for silence.
A voice came over the radio once more.
Vicki couldn’t understand everything they were saying, their words garbled by static and made up of slang she didn’t know.
Megs translated for her. “All four are responsive. Silver, the pilot, and the photojournalist have second-degree burns, while Hawke has second-degree with third-degree burns on his right leg. He suffered partial shelter failure. All need medical treatment. They’re being flown to the burn center in Denver.”
Vicki’s stomach sank.Third-degree burns. Shelter failure.“Oh, God.”
Megs took her hand, gave it a squeeze. “He’s alive and responsive, so that’s a good sign.”
Vicki shot to her feet. “I’ve got to get to the burn center.”
Libby stood, too. “I’m coming with you.”
“My car is at the Forest Creek Inn.” Vicki started toward the door.
Megs stood, blocking her. “You’re not driving.”
“I’ll take you.” The tall man who’d called the lieutenant governor stepped forward, Gabe’s friend. “I met your husband today. He’s a good man.”
“Thank you.”
“He helped me evacuate,” Libby said as if to vouch for the man.
Vicki headed toward the door, then turned back. “Text me when you get news about Chaska, Gabe, and the others, okay? And, Megs, thank you.”
Megs acknowledged this with a nod. “You go be with your man.”
Vicki followed the man outside to his vehicle, Libby beside her, both of them holding a hand over their mouths to shield themselves from the smoke. It was so thick she could barely see twenty feet ahead.
The man opened the two passenger-side doors for them, then hurried to the driver’s side and climbed in.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t remember your name.” Vicki was ashamed to admit this. She was usually good with names.
“Chief Deputy US Marshal Zach McBride.” He backed out of his parking space. “How would the two of you feel about me switching on my overheads and running hot?”
“Oh, hell, yes!” Libby blurted.
They drove through empty, smoke-filled streets, passing a single sheriff’s vehicle but seeing no one else as they made their way to the canyon.
Vicki called her mother-in-law to share the news, knowing that Robin was suffering every bit as much as she. “Yes, he’s alive, but he’s got third-degree burns on his right leg. I’m on the way to the burn center now. I’ll call as soon as I have more news.”
Vicki ended the call, lapsing into silence. She didn’t have the heart for conversation, her thoughts wrapped around Eric and what he must have endured, questions chasing through her mind. Why had his shelter failed? Were they taking care of his pain? Was his life in danger? Was he at risk of losing his leg? Would he be able to walk again?
The canyon passed by outside her windows unseen. When they reached Boulder, Zach flipped on his sirens. Traffic pulled over, enabling them to move quickly through the city and onto Highway 36 toward Denver.
It was only when they passed the hospital that Vicki remembered her promise to text Lexi when she got word. She typed out a quick message and sent it.
“Do you think they’ll let me see Brandon?” Libby asked out of the blue. “I’m not his wife. I’m not sure he’ll even want to see me.”
Vicki turned to look back at Libby. “Are you kidding? He’s going to be so happy that you’re there. Just tell them you’re his significant other.”
But Libby looked unconvinced.
Forty minutes later—it felt like much longer than that—they pulled up in front of the Denver Burn Center, stopping just outside the emergency entrance. “You two head in. I’ll park and then come in to check on my buddy Ramirez.”
“Thanks so much.”